


Unwinding

by ivesia19



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alley Sex, Established Relationship, Jealous Castiel, M/M, Marking, Possessive Castiel, vague season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 23:25:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4368332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivesia19/pseuds/ivesia19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All that matters at this moment is that Castiel reminds Dean that he’s there – reminds Dean that he’s always there and always will be. That Castiel is his and Dean is Castiel’s. That they’re each others’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unwinding

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted from my livejournal

Castiel isn’t fond of bars. The air is thicker inside the small room – trapped by too many bodies – and there’s a despair that lingers, almost hidden unless Castiel really looks for it. Bars are not one of his Father’s best creations, but Dean likes them. 

Dean likes to “unwind”, as he calls it. He likes to swagger with a cool beer in his hand, angle the bottle back far and get every last overpriced drop. He likes the sense of being anonymous, too. Likes knowing that no one knows him.

Castiel doesn’t like the overwhelming smell of smoke and alcohol or the fact that no one knows of Dean’s importance, but he’s there because Dean asked him to be there. And Castiel could never say no to Dean. 

Because of Dean, Castiel can excuse the way that bars make him feel claustrophobic and trapped. He can ignore the way that wobbling bodies knock into him, but when Castiel looks over at the counter where Dean had headed just a few minutes ago to get them drinks, Castiel can’t ignore what he sees.

It’s strange, but when Castiel looks over – looks across the misty air that is darkened by clouds of smoke – a feeling starts to spread in him that he’s never experienced before. It’s close to the feeling that he had when Dean had almost said yes to Michael, and just like then, Castiel’s body tenses, and his eyes narrow as he watches a girl across the room.

She’s pretty. Small and blonde. She’s more innocent looking than the girls that Castiel has seen in Dean’s past, but her soul shows little purity belied by her delicate features. 

She’s leaning up against Dean, laughing and pointing down to her too-high heals, placing a steadying hand against Dean’s arm, and just like that, Castiel is making his way across the room.

The small hand of the girl is placed almost directly over Castiel’s scarred handprint, and it feels wrong, so wrong, for her to be anywhere near that. To be anywhere near Dean. 

It doesn’t take long – longer than it would have if Castiel hadn’t bothered to walk – but in less than thirty seconds, Castiel is standing right behind Dean and the girl. He pushes people out of his way, vaguely mindful that he shouldn’t cause a scene, but he can’t seem to really care. There’s a feeling that he can’t control welling up inside of him, and all that matters right now is that Castiel is close to Dean and the girl is not.

Up close, the girl is even more aggravating, and her voice grates on Castiel’s ears: too high and falsely bright. He places his hand on Dean’s shoulder, turning the other man and displacing the girl’s hand in one motion. “Dean.” It’s all that he can think of to say. All that he can verbalize right now, but there must have been something in his tone, because the girl steps back.

Dean’s smile is easy, and he passes the cool beer back to Castiel. “Hey, Cas. This, here, is Shanna. She was just keeping me company while the bartender decided to recognize my existence.” 

Castiel doesn’t understand. Dean is talking as if nothing is wrong. As if that girl hadn’t just had her hand on his arm. As if he doesn’t realize that Castiel is trying oh-so-hard not to break God’s covenant with Noah and destroy this entire planet and all of the people on it – anyone who could so casually touch Dean like that – with one massive wave of fury. 

“You should leave,” Castiel says to the girl, not even bothering to look at her, and he pulls Dean up out of the chair and yanks him through the bar. The movement is so sudden that Dean doesn’t even grab his beer, but that doesn’t matter, and as Castiel drags Dean behind him, he places his own untouched beverage on an already-crowded table.

“Cas, what are you doing?” Dean gruffs behind him, confusion lacing his words, but Castiel doesn’t care, he just needs to get out of this bar – needs to get Dean out of this bar.

He pushes open the back exit hard, and he can hear the hinges creak as they crack with the force. Gone is the stifling humanity of the bar, and fresh, night air hits Castiel full force, calming him down a little, but his hold on Dean’s wrist is still tight. It might even leave a bruise, and Castiel doesn’t know why, but the thought pleases him.

The alley Castiel leads them to is deserted and so much like the one all those months ago when he had tried to beat the submission out of Dean, but this time, it isn’t the harsh blow of fists that Castiel deals Dean. Instead, when Castiel pushes Dean back against the hard, cold brick wall, it’s his mouth that bruises, and he kisses Dean without restraint.

All that matters at this moment is that Castiel reminds Dean that he’s there – reminds Dean that he’s always there and always will be. That Castiel is his and Dean is Castiel’s. That they’re each others’. 

The first noise of Dean’s confusion is muffled by Castiel’s tongue, and it only takes a second before Dean is kissing back just as hungrily. When he pulls back, his eyes are blown, and he’s panting for a breath through red, red lips.

“What’s gotten into you, Cas?” His voice is already lower than normal, a sign that Castiel knows well by now.

“I didn’t like her touching you,” Castiel says, and he slots his leg between Dean’s, rocking up just to feel and watch Dean bite his lower lip and surge up. “I don’t like her thinking that she could have you.”

“I wasn’t doing anything,” Dean starts to protest, but Castiel doesn’t let him finish and kisses him again.

His kisses are biting and frantic – frantic in a way it is when Sam is only gone for a short amount of time and Dean doesn’t have his own room. Dean moans against Castiel’s mouth and jerks as Castiel starts to rock harder against him, loving the way that the brick catches on Dean’s shirt, causing it to ride up; loving the way that Dean is so hard through his jeans; loving how much Dean surrenders to him, only him.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean breathes, but it isn’t enough, he doesn’t seem to understand what it is that Castiel needs for him to understand, so Castiel lifts Dean up easily, gripping him at his thighs until Dean has no choice but to wrap a steadying leg around him, and he bites down at Dean’s collarbone, leaving a mark there, too, because there isn’t enough of him on Dean and there should be. 

The overwhelming burn of the sudden rage from the girl in the bar starts to fade as Dean starts to breathe heavier knowing that Castiel is the one doing this – the only one who does this to him, and Castiel whispers the same words that he had said all those years ago when he had first seen Dean in Hell and pulled him out as he grinds hard up against Dean. “I am the one who found you. You are bonded to me.” And Dean comes.

A harsh noise breaks from Dean’s throat, blocking out Castiel’s remaining words – words that speak of love and protection, but Castiel doesn’t mind too much, because he jerks up against Dean again, and he follows. 

There’s a moment where they don’t move, but then Castiel lowers Dean to the ground. Dean winces as his back slides against the brick and his legs straighten out.

There’s a blooming bruise on his neck. Two more colored marks on his arm, and Castiel feels a twinge of guilt.

“I hurt you,” he says, because he had promised to keep Dean safe no matter what. 

He reaches a finger out to clear the marks from Dean’s skin – to make him whole again – but Dean stops him.

“Don’t,” he says. His voice is rough from exertion, but his words are clear. “Leave them.” He holds Castiel’s gaze for just a second longer, and Castiel nods, understanding immediately. 

Dean breathes out something that sounds close to relief, and he grabs Castiel’s hand – something he rarely does, especially in public – and leads him out of the alley into the more brightly lit streets of whatever city they happen to be in that night.

“Let’s go back to the motel,” Dean says, and now that the anger is gone, Castiel cocks his head and asks, “You don’t want to go back to the bar? You didn’t even get the beer you wanted.”

Dean shakes his head and says, “No, let’s go home.”


End file.
